


I buried him. //They were purple.

by mothdotjpeg



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Angst, Animal Death, Blood, Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, M/M, Nightmares, One Shot, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Symbolism, TW/spoilers: Winston death, Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter in Cuba, Will is a Mess, its just a nightmare though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:35:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25828303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mothdotjpeg/pseuds/mothdotjpeg
Summary: Hannibal finds Will on the steps of their Cuban home after he has a nightmare for the first time in ages. He listens to Will in the early morning air, watching him let go of someone he can't have anymore.||  “Would you like to talk about it?” It interrupted the muddy purple they had created, not too warm nor cold, a silent peace in the air. Will’s body froze a bit, jaw clenching. “You can always say no, love.” Hannibal’s lips pressed into his hair, kissing gently. They pulled away, Will’s eyes darting around anxiously.“I know.” Waiting till he was ready, hearing the chirping of the frogs and the crash of the waves. He didn't look cold anymore, Hannibal waited. “It was like I wasn't asleep, I could feel your body around mine, I could hear the world around us. I knew where I was, I could taste dinner on my tongue. But I wasn't there. I wasn't,” His eyes were back in the waves, his body tense again. Hannibal had slid a hand to his back, Will’s body beginning to curl again. ||TW: Dog/pet death
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 3
Kudos: 42





	I buried him. //They were purple.

It was bad. It hadn't been like this in so long, in such a comfortable calm and enjoyable time. A warm and hot, close and yellow, dim, and aching time. With bodies close, healing, resting, wrapped in each other's limbs. But now it was nothing like that. Nothing like the comfort of those large killer’s hands holding him close. Nothing like the warm forehead kisses, the yellow sand, or the sticky air. It felt freezing. A difference so noticeable and so earth-shattering. 

It wasn't like this was new to Will. It was a feeling as old as time, as old as bad dreams that plagued his childhood and turned into teenage nightmares, then into adult night terrors. The freezing air that always clung to his sweaty skin, shaking limbs, and racing mind. He had wrapped himself in towels, he had learned to live with it. Learned a way to cope and live and survive it. But it had been so long. Exhaustion and peace and acceptance had taken them from him, replaced them with easy nights and calm mornings. 

“Will?” How desperately he wanted to hide. Curl into his damp body until he found himself back in Virginia with his dogs, grateful to be where he fell asleep. It felt like nothing changed like maybe he was still there. He couldn't hide, not now. There was nowhere to go, no reason to pretend he was fine. Especially now with Hannibal looming above him, kind eyes, and a soft face. He had let himself soften, it made Will feel safer. “Oh, Will,” Hannibal sank to the step next to Will, hands reaching out to comfort him but pausing when Will’s body stiffened. He was sitting on their front steps, trying to feel the hot Cuban air thaw him out but he shook slightly, towel around his shoulders. Hannibal didn't mention the thoughts of the last time he found Will like this, those memories were sour and old. “You look as those you are a frightened dog, stray and abandoned. Oh so very frightened.” He settled next to Will, his hands in his lap, his eyes kind and gentle. No comforting touches, waiting for Will’s body language to calm and settle too. 

“I miss my dogs.” Will’s voice was coarse and rough in the humid morning air. It must've been sometime after midnight, probably past one am. The air felt orange to Hannibal, his body stripped of all its clothes except some boxers. The moonlight touching his tough and worn skin, dancing off the grey hair on his exposed chest. But to Will, the air felt blue and crisp. As though snow could be dancing in the air, he shivered. He had woken up here, on the stairs, in his normal t-shirt paired with a pair of pajama pants he didn't remember putting on. A towel holding in the heat, trying to warm his blood. His bones felt like ice, his nerves felt like white fire. 

“And I miss you.” The response was delayed, but not late. Never late. It was always right on time. Hannibal smiled softly at Will, whose gaze stayed out on the cold ocean before them. Watching the waves like they were home. Will heard Hannibal, his body still shaking, his eyes closing at the comforting noise of Hannibal's voice. When he finally looked at him his blue eyes looked relieved. The clouded look that had been given to the sea was gone, clarity in his eyes like he was finally awake. “Would you like to go back inside, dearest? I can hold you if you like.” Hannibal’s voice was caring, firm, and meaningful. As though he really did miss him after only a few moments apart. Those blue eyes darted back to the waves, still clear now, yearning in the gaze. His shoulders moved as he breathed, his body stopped shaking so much, he shook his head no. 

“I want to stay here,” A timid hand finding treasure on Hannibal's bare thigh, holding tightly as to keep him there on the steps. “if you don't mind.” Anxiety in his voice as his eyes flashed with some memory, his thumb stroking at Hannibal's skin.

“As long as I can stay with you.” That made Will’s body soften, leaning towards the warmth of Hannibal, tugging him closer until they were leaning on each other watching the ocean waves. Will’s head on Hannibal’s shoulder, hand still on his thigh, leg pressed against his leg. Hannibal rested his chin on the top of Will’s head, breathing in the smell of his hair, hand on top of Will’s. “Would you like to talk about it?” It interrupted the muddy purple they had created, not too warm nor cold, a silent peace in the air. Will’s body froze a bit, jaw clenching. “You can always say no, love.” Hannibal’s lips pressed into his hair, kissing gently. They pulled away, Will’s eyes darting around anxiously. 

“I know.” Waiting till he was ready, hearing the chirping of the frogs and the crash of the waves. He didn't look cold anymore, Hannibal waited. “It was like I wasn't asleep, I could feel your body around mine, I could hear the world around us. I knew where I was, I could taste dinner on my tongue. But I wasn't there. I wasn't,” His eyes were back in the waves, his body tense again. Hannibal had slid a hand to his back, Will’s body beginning to curl again. “It was white and cold, as though we were buried in a million layers of Baltimore snow. And it was almost nice, to feel so cold when my skin was so warm and pressed into yours.” Bliss crossed his face. “I felt like I was drifting off, and then…” He paused and took a breath in, eyes squeezing tight. “The blackness was so deep and warm. It was endless like the waves here, like the mornings when we never get out of bed. It coated everything. The moonlight on his coat, the white freezing air from his breaths, the deep dark black- It was like a stain you can't remove. I kept scrubbing it out but it kept coming. Staining the snow and the fur and my hands, it stuck to my skin like a scar that never heals. And I want it, I do,” His eyes had met Hannibal's, pleading. “The way it looked in the moonlight, it's everything I crave but not with him. Not like this, it wouldn't stop.” Hands that were shaking so hard, fingers digging into the skin of his palms as if the blackness was really there. “I tried so hard, Hannibal. I was trying so hard.” The towel has slipped from his shoulders, his body shaking, his shirt soaked with hot and sticky sweat. Hannibal wanted to reach out, hold his face, and wipe the tears that were forming in his eyes, but he didn't. After Will stayed silent for a moment, Hannibal pried a little. 

“Who was bleeding, Will?” He knew the answer, that's why he asked. Scared to sound like the psychiatrist that hurt Will all that time ago. Now he was being honest, and caring, and listening earnestly. 

“It did stop, eventually.” Will’s eyes were clouded again, staring past the man he was looking at. Too caught up in the memory to process Hannibal's words, he didn't mind. “The black, it stopped flowing. It dried on his skin, it- It stained him so dark. He looked pure black in the moonlight.” The tears were rolling from his eyes, his body shaking so violently Hannibal couldn't help but reach a hand out to hold him steady. He didn't flinch or react to the touch, too lost in his head. 

“What did you do with his body?” Soft and cold in the air, the tone in his voice matched the emptiness in Will’s that followed.

“I buried him.” His face was like stone, body stilling as he said it. “I held him as his fur dried, and then I carried him to the house. I wanted to put him in his bed, so he could sleep. But I didn't want to upset the others, I didn't want to wake up and think he was just sleeping.” It felt warmer now, the emotion back in his voice. Not sad, not empty, just reminiscing as though this had happened a hundred years ago. “So I put him on the porch, and I dug. Blindly, I don't even remember where or how I picked I just dug. White and cold and my hands were freezing and the black still didn't go away. My skin it's so,” Looking back at his hands, fear creeping into his gaze. “so stained.” A shaky breath out, filling the humid air with cold nostalgia. “When all the snow was gone, and all the dirt, I found him where I left him. And he,” He laughed slightly. “He didn't really look like himself. I didn't want him to be buried, to live out there and decompose when he didn't look like himself. He deserves more. So I washed him. For hours. Like I had when I found him. Just scrubbing his black fur with soap and water, but this time he couldn't stand by himself. He laid in my lap, and I didn't even mind the hot water that froze to my clothes. I just scrubbed him until the sun rose, and the black turned to faded red. And the water wasn't clean anymore, and I was all out of soap. I didn't stop until he looked like himself.” The peace that had fallen over Will’s body was beautiful, Hannibal’s eyes taking in everything his body was telling him. The way his voice sounded, the look in his eyes and on his face. 

“And you buried him?” He didn't mean to finish Will’s story or interrupt, he just wanted Will to remember he was listening and where he was. Will blinked, looked from his hands to Hannibal, and nodded. The life, the awareness, back in his skin. It was warming, red and golden, unlike the pale green his skin had been when Hannibal had found him.

“Yeah. I buried him.” Hannibal nodded back, and he smiled slightly. Meeting those blue eyes, seeing the acceptance in his face. Talking had helped. It always helped. They sat like that for a long while, looking at each other softly and assuredly, still keeping their distance. Until Will’s gaze faltered and he cleared his throat. “We can go back inside now.” His hand bunched around the towel that had fallen, strength coming back to his tired body. 

“As long as I can hold you.” He teased as Will stood up, reaching his other hand to help Hannibal up. Will smiled back.

“I wouldn't have it any other way.” And so they retreated to their bed, tangled themselves again. Warm and yellow and orange, and somehow blue and green. It was peaceful and humid. Loving and caring. No more nightmares, at least not that night. The waves didn't crash over them. They were purple. 

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this once again at like 1 am but I really enjoy it. Gotta get some nightmare angst out of my system via my boy Will. I lost my dog a few months ago and writing this last night was really nice, so I hope you enjoy it!


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